


Wings to the Weak, Grace to the Strong

by tristesses



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Rough Sex, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-07
Updated: 2012-06-07
Packaged: 2017-11-07 05:33:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/427433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tristesses/pseuds/tristesses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They've left the war behind, but every now and then, it catches up with them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wings to the Weak, Grace to the Strong

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Janelle Monáe's song "Cold War", written for saintgilbert at Femmefest 2012.

Ginny shuts her eyes and tilts her head up to the sky. The day is bright and sunny, warm summer weather with the bite of autumn sneaking in on the tails of the wind. It's blowing softly here at ground level, but Ginny bets it'll be gusty once she's in the air. Tricky to fly in, sure, but Ginny loves a challenge. She grins, eyes still closed, and the roar of the crowd swells until its rhythm matches the beating of blood in her ears.

"Weasley, Weasley," they chant, and it's good to hear them cheer for her. This past year has been difficult; she doesn't care much if people like her, or at least that's what she tells herself, but the bitterness of the public after bloody Rita Skeeter and her ravenous taste for headline-grabbing gossip got through with her…

"Ready to fly, Gin?" Gwenog shouts over the noise, and Ginny shoves her thoughts violently to back of her mind, where they won't bother her during the match.

"Ready to win!" she calls back, and at the referee's whistle, she shoots into the sky, whipping past the others so fast she has to screw her eyes shut against the wind.

Ginny Weasley always wins.

****

. . .

Cho is patient. She's patient, and she has good people skills, and she loves her job, but right now she wants to hex Horatio Finn, the sleazy bastard, and his inability to let go of yesterday's gossip.

"Miss Chang," he hollers from the small crowd of journalists gathered before her podium, and heads swivel to watch him. "Have you or Miss Weasley had any contact with the Chosen One lately?"

The innuendo in his voice is clear, and Cho smiles prettily and says, "I hear he roots for the Harpies. Next?"

She nods at a woman in the front row, a reporter with _Brooms & Braids_, but Finn cuts her off.

"How does he feel about your relationship with Miss Weasley?" he shouts. "Considering the both of you rejected him before - "

"Ms. Steppenwulf," Cho interrupts, louder this time, and smiles at the woman reporter, who's rolling her eyes in exasperation. "Please, continue."

Finn tries to open his mouth several more times, but Cho smoothly blocks him at every turn. She is not in the mood to put up with his idiocy today, and luckily she's good enough at what she does to evade him while remaining polite and professional.

 _At least the rest of the reporters are on my side_ , Cho muses after the press conference is over, having promised Gloria Steppenwulf an interview with the Harpies' Beaters. More than one had given her looks of sympathy, and she heard an older man mumbling under his breath: "Astoundingly unprofessional, shouldn't even hold a quill - "

Taking a deep breath, Cho ducks out of the curtained-off press room and strides across the pitch to the Harpies' changing room, casting a quick spell to keep her heels from sinking into the grass. Mentally reviewing the rest of the conference, she bites her lip to hide her smile; even now, after two years, she still feels victorious whenever she successfully handles the reporters' rapid-fire questions.

"Cho!" 

Ginny hails her with a yell as she and the rest of the Harpies exit the changing room, milling around and chattering about their win excitedly. "Did you take notes on our game so you can tell us how to improve?"

"I did, in fact, so you'd better have an hour or four to spare," Cho teases, and slips an arm around Ginny's waist. Her girlfriend's hair is still wet from the showers, her long plait leaving damp spots on Cho's sleeve, but what's the point of being a witch if she can't clean her blouse when she wants to?

Ginny rests her head against Cho's shoulder for a moment, weary and happy, but at a call from Wimbley she springs up and jogs over to huddle with the rest of the team. Cho watches her, eyes narrowed; there's a tension in her shoulders that has rarely been there of late, and her talkativeness has reached new heights in the past few days. _She's been having the dreams again,_ Cho realizes, dismayed. She casts her mind back over the past few weeks, but she can't pinpoint a reason why - unless Ginny's been keeping up with Skeeter and Finn, who are poison to anyone's mind. People like them do no favors for Ginny.

There's not much Cho can do, of course, except offering support as subtly as possible while quietly raging at her own helplessness. Anything more than that, and Ginny accuses her of coddling (which, to be fair, is probably accurate). Cho quashes her maternal instinct and sighs, catching Gwenog by the shirt as she goes to join her team.

"Tell Ginny I'll meet her at home, all right?"

"Of course," Gwenog says. Her eyes gleam. "The odds were against us today, you know. Ginny's very excited."

Cho blushes, thanking her lucky stars that she never allows herself embarrassment on the podium; her whole face gets red, and it doesn't exactly lend her an air of authority. She has good cause this time, though; Gwenog knows very well what Ginny's like after a win, giddy with adrenaline, smug with victory, and flirty from it all. Cho doubts she'll have to worry about Ginny's mood tonight.

"I'm sure you all are," Cho replies primly, and ducks away from Gwenog's friendly slap. "Excuse me, Captain."

"Off with you, then," Gwenog laughs. 

Cho waves her off with a smile as she concentrates; the familiar hook of Apparation grabs her, and she materializes in her and Ginny's shared apartment. It's an expansive place, paid for mostly by Ginny's salary (Cho compensates by cleaning and cooking in lieu of a house elf), located in the heart of trendy Muggle London as is popular these days. Muggle culture in general is in fashion, backlash from the war, and as it's lasted six years, Cho doesn't see it fading any time soon. Luckily, she likes Muggle clothes and music, and she's continually fascinated by television, so she's hardly complaining.

She's barely kicked off her heels and put the kettle on when Ginny pops into being in the front room. Cho hears her, but doesn't show it. She does, however, stretch to reach the tea when she could easily summon it with magic, displaying the long line of her body, perfectly aligned from fingertips to toes. She swings her hips more than necessary as she walks from the cabinet to the kettle boiling on the stove, though certainly not for the edification of the woman lounging in the doorway, watching her every move.

"I like that skirt on you," Ginny says, and Cho fakes a gasp. She spins with her hand clutched dramatically to her chest.

"Oh, I didn't see you! You terrified me."

"I am," Ginny says, and the corners of her mouth curl, catlike, "very threatening."

She stalks across the kitchen, and Cho backs up until she hits the countertop. She and Ginny are of a height, but Ginny still manages to trap her within her arms, smiling that sultry smile.

"Yes, you are," Cho breathes, and a smile ruins her wide-eyed act, belying her amusement. She giggles as Ginny kisses along her jaw, but cuts off with a gasp at her quick nip at her neck. She kisses the spot, soothing the slight hurt, her hands sliding from Cho's waist to her hips, cupping her arse. Cho grips the countertop in anticipation, and sighs, tipping her head back as Ginny nuzzles her pulse point, until Ginny tangles her hands in Cho's hair and finally - finally! - tugs her down to meet her lips.

Kissing Ginny is like kissing a wildfire; she's all teeth and tongue, insistent and a shade too violent. Cho loves it. She responds ardently, putting her arms around Ginny's shoulders and pulling her close, arching her back in pleasure, and winds Ginny's thick plait around her fingers. After a moment, she finds the band at the end and tugs it loose; she cards her fingers through Ginny's hair, the sleek strands slipping through her fingers. Ginny hums appreciatively into her mouth, and pulls away. Cho pouts at the loss of contact, but Ginny's flushed face and wicked eyes, her fiery hair spilling over her shoulders, make her swallow hard and want nothing more than to dishevel her some more.

"Bedroom?" Ginny suggests, eyes dancing, and Cho nods vigorously.

They stumble into their room, kissing and pawing at each other, and Cho shoves Ginny down onto the bed. Removing her clothes - all of them - requires only a quick spell, and then Cho is treated to the sight of Ginny sprawled out naked, tan and lean, decorated with freckles like spilled cinnamon on her shoulders and the tops of her breasts. She tosses her head back and levels a challenging look at Cho.

"Think you can make me scream tonight?" she asks with a smirk, cupping her breasts and flicking her nipples with her thumbs, just like Cho does to her. Cho holds her gaze until the taunt in her eyes darkens and deepens, shifting to pure desire. Slowly, a feral smile steals across Cho's lips.

"Yes," she says. "I rather think I can."

Still wearing her skirt and buttoned blouse, she straddles Ginny and leans down to kiss her, open-mouthed and messy. Ginny slides her hands up her thighs, under her skirt, scratching red trails against Cho's skin, and Cho grabs her by the wrists and pins her hands above her head. 

"You're going to have to try a little harder if you want to do that," she breathes in Ginny's ear.

Ginny snaps her teeth at her in response, and writhes, trying to throw her off, but Cho is an athlete too, and she keeps Ginny down, one leg shoved between her thighs, rubbing against her like the tease she knows she is.

"Merlin, you're wonderful," Ginny says, a little breathlessly, and Cho lets one wrist go so she can cup Ginny's jaw and kiss her again, again, and then she slides her hand between their bodies and presses the heel of her hand right where Ginny's wettest, making her grind against it until Ginny is moaning and bucking against her palm.

"Don't you know it," Cho replies cheekily, and without warning she flips Ginny onto her stomach, ignoring her surprised shriek. Ginny wriggles like she's trying to escape, but Cho seizes her by the hair and drags her back.

"Don't you dare," she says, and emphasizes this with a tug. Tears stand in Ginny's eyes from the pain, but she can't hide the spark of pleasure there, either.

Pushing Ginny's head into the pillows, Cho takes her with the weapons she likes best: snapping bites and slaps on her breasts and arse, fingers digging into her thighs as she shoves her legs apart.

"Yes," Ginny gasps, "fuck, Cho, okay, like that - "

"So coherent," Cho coos. She thrusts two fingers inside Ginny, and slicks her wetness all along her folds, just barely brushing against her clit before drawing away. Ginny makes a frustrated noise, and Cho adds wickedly, "I can tell you're a Gryffindor."

"Oh, fuck you - _oh_ ," says Ginny, and she sobs in pleasure, trailing off into a whimper as Cho finally gives her what she wants, three fingers buried inside her and thumb working her clit. Cho tangles her hand in Ginny's hair again and pulls her head back, wanting to see every last flicker of pleasure flitting across her face. And oh, how she sees. Ginny's climax is beautiful, her mouth stretched in an O, eyelids fluttering, every muscle tensing under Cho's hands - Cho can feel her spasm, tight around her fingers, and drags it out as long as she can, treasuring every gasping moan and shivering sigh she wrings out of the girl beneath her.

Finally, Ginny slumps against Cho, panting, a dazed little smile on her face. Cho watches her, noting the bruises and bite marks she left with pride; no one will see them under Ginny's clothes, whether she wears her Quidditch robes or her Muggle jeans and shirt, but she loves knowing they're there, knowing Ginny will be sore tomorrow and it's all due to Cho. 

After a moment, she notices a tinny whistle, and can't quite place what it is. She cocks her head, listening, and opens her mouth to ask Ginny.

"I think you left the kettle on," she says, before the words even leave Cho's lips. She licks Cho's breast fondly. "And you call me the forgetful one."

Cho glances toward the kitchen and sighs. She doesn't want to bother with this now, not with Ginny so pliant and happy next to her. She gropes for her wand on the nightstand; one flick of her wrist, and the whistling stops.

"Water's still boiling," says Ginny, but her eyes are bright and her hand is creeping up Cho's stomach, almost but not quite tickling. _Insatiable thing_ , Cho thinks, and arches her back into the touch.

"I'll deal with it later," she says, and as if that were permission, Ginny flings a leg over Cho's hips and straddles her.

"Good," she says, smiling her devilish little grin, pinching Cho's nipples just a bit harder than is comfortable. "Because now it's your turn."

Cho gazes at her from under her eyelashes, her body already primed and humming, and whispers, "Bring it on."

****

. . .

_She walks through the halls of Hogwarts, Marauders' Map in hand, and knows something is off. There's something different, something_ wrong _. The stone ceilings tower above her, the staircases are longer, their bannisters higher. The shadows are strange, twisted things, falling in shapes unlike their casters, and the students around her - they have no faces, not really, just smooth white porcelain with deeply carved eye sockets. When one turns its head to stare at her, its mask cracks, a gash opening where the mouth would be, and echoing from that crude hole is a woman's voice:_

_"I'm going to find you, Weasley. I'm going to find you and string you up and make you bleed, little bitch. No one hides from Alecto Carrow."_

_Another mask, another crack, more scraping words, this time a child's voice:_

_"Help me, someone help me! No, no, please don't - "_

_Somewhere behind her, a voice hisses,_ "Crucio," _and the child starts to scream._

_"We need to stop this!" A boy, someone she knows, a friend. "Ginny, we can't let them do this!"_

_Ginny spins, her gorge rising, whining like a kicked dog, her eyes burning. The people crowd around her, the House sigils on their robes blurring and morphing into bloody skulls and snakes. They're so tall, overwhelming her, dragging her down - and she's eleven again, and she looks down at the map to see where she needs to go but it's not the map anymore, Moony and the rest have abandoned her; it's blank, nothing there, and she blinks and it's Tom Riddle's diary, but now there's ink seeping up through the page_

**HELLO GINNY**

_She screams, and flings it away, and it hits him in the chest. He's not a ghost, not a memory, he's solid and he's real and he's_ staring right at her -

_"It's your fault, Ginny," Tom tells her gently. "All your fault. You let those kids get hurt. You let your friends die because you didn't want to. You pretended to fight, but you really ran and hid behind others braver than you. You didn't care if they fell defending you. And do you know why?"_

_He steps forward. Ginny is crying, but she's trapped by him just like she used to be. Tom touches his finger to her forehead, and says almost tenderly, "It's because I'm still in here._

_"And I always will be."_

"Ginny? Ginny!"

Someone is shaking her, and Ginny wakes with a scream throttled in her throat. She flails, and Cho catches her fist.

"Easy," she says, "Easy, love, you're okay, you're with me."

As she blinks away the remnants of the dream, anger and humiliation curl inside Ginny's stomach, and she buries her face in Cho's shoulder, shuddering. Cho hums and strokes her hair, rocking her. It makes Ginny feel pitifully childlike, but it helps.

"I really thought they were gone," she whispers. "It's been so long…"

Cho says nothing, but her quiet, strong presence at Ginny's side is steady and soothing. Ginny takes a few gasping breaths, and goes limp in Cho's arms.

"You'll get through this," Cho murmurs. "You'll beat this. You can."

"I know," Ginny says. It's a lie right now, but tomorrow, when everything is right again and she steps onto the pitch, broom in her hand, sun in her eyes, Cho scripting press releases in the stands, she knows it will become truth. She'll fight it. She'll beat it.

After all, Ginny Weasley always wins.


End file.
